


Frank Castle- You Have Something of Mine

by Skellyagogo



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Romance, Angst and Tragedy, Comfort, F/M, Female reader insert, Heavy Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:00:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24014002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skellyagogo/pseuds/Skellyagogo
Summary: She says it’s just a recon, no need for the help of her team, but then he hears it through the grapevine.  See’s the evidence, but no one can come running to the rescue... no one but him.
Kudos: 4





	Frank Castle- You Have Something of Mine

  


**********

He heard the chatter through the underground network throughout the city, the rumors of the capture. He didn’t want to believe it, it had to have been some ploy, some con game some terror cell was playing at with the Avengers. Days went by and he refused to accept it. It wasn’t until he saw the hacked feed that Micro pulled up on his computer. Frank watched in horror as the captors laughed over the torture.

She was strapped to a table by her wrists and ankles. The table tilted down so her head was close to the ground. He watched helplessly from where he stood as they waterboarded her. A heavily wet cloth held tight over her head, covering her whole face. He could see her struggling, her whole body trying to fight back. They poured bucket after bucket of water over her face. The coughing and gagging sound sending poisonous hatred through his veins.

The terrorist cell spoke into the camera laughing regaling all the plans they had for her. The dozens of ways they’d use to break her, all the fun they’d have and at S.H.I.E.L.D.’s expense. They made absurd demands to S.H.I.E.L.D., but he knew as others of his kind did. S.H.I.E.L.D. didn’t negotiate with terrorists, even if it meant the lives of their agents. Frank pounded his fists on the table, yelled in rage. He picked up the empty chair next to Micro and threw it with unforeseen force across the room smashing it through a window inside their hideout.

“Frank, they’ll get her.” Micro sputtered in a daze. He couldn’t believe that they wouldn’t send someone in and get her, there was no way. It was Y/n, surely Capt. America or Iron Man would burst in and bring her home.

“You know they won’t!” Frank bellowed. “They follow the rules. All that bullshit governmental red tape. Captain America goes storming in there and he’ll end up being public enemy number one again!”

He turned his back on the video feed, he couldn’t watch. She told him it was a simple mission, a recon for information and that there wasn’t any need for the big guns to get sent in. He knew she wasn’t weak, she could hold her own better than anyone he’d met in the service. She was a goddamned Avenger sent in without any backup. She didn’t have superpowers, wasn’t pumped up with a super serum, she wasn’t a god. Y/n was just human, a scrappy woman who fought her way up the ranks in that stupid organization. Fought for those that couldn’t fight for themselves.

_She’d been there for him when no one else was. Fought beside him when everyone said he was a killer, that he was terrorist, a deranged vigilante, and maybe he was at some point. Y/n had believed in him, supported him no questions asked. She dropped anything with just one text, one phone call and she was there. She’d show up geared to the teeth ready to fight because she knew he never fought without a reason._

_He remembered the first time he called her for no reason at all. There wasn’t a bad guy to deal with, not a corrupt politician to take down, not a drug lord or gangster. He’d called her out of loneliness. The deafening silence that filled his hideout pounding in his head. He paced the joint antsy and on edge, couldn’t find the reason for it until he saw a pair of her knives left on his weapons table._

_Frank found himself running his fingers over the knives smiling. She’d never left anything behind before, but those were her favorites. The ones she said she couldn’t live without laid out on the table, cleaned and sharpened ready to go surrounded by his horde of gear. Touching the knives is what made it click in his mind. He was anxious to see her, it’d been weeks._

_He craved her smile, that goofy lopsided grin she’d flash him when he told a bad joke. The way her shoulders shook when she laughed. How her beautiful eyes rolled annoyingly at him. The way her head softly shook side to side when he said something moronic. The smells coming from the kitchen when she cooked simply because she worried he wasn’t eating enough. When she was exhausted after a fight, she’d curl up on his dingy couch and crash hard. Fall into a deep sleep that only came when you felt safe._

_Hardened ex-Marine or not he never let her sleep there. He’d scoop her up and carry her to his bed and tuck her in. Sometimes she’d whisper his name in her sleep. He never thought anything of it, passed it off as her dreaming about the fight they’d been in. She’d wake the next morning with a sultry grin, and bedhead that made him weak in the knees. She’d sit up in his bed looking around only to see him on the couch._

_He called her feeling nervous for the first time in years. It was childish and stupid in his mind to have this jittery energy racing through him. It was only Y/n. Ah, but his mind started that internal argument with his heart._

_‘Yes it’s only Y/n but admit it, you like her,’ his heart quipped with a smile._

_'Hardly, she’s a fighter, I’d go as far as saying a friend,’ his brain answered with shaky confidence._

_'You lie to yourself too much. Be honest, you don’t just like her, deep down you love her,’ the heart chuckled knowing. He was the one that pumped the blood and beat in a crazy rhythm whenever she was around._

_'She’s alright I guess,’ the brain trailed off in thought thinking of the way she looked as she slept._

_'See right there, you’re thinking about her, admit it!’ His heart beat faster thinking of her sleepy smile in the early morning hours._

_'I don’t!’ Brain yelled convincing no one._

_'You’ve fought your whole life, it’s what’s kept you alive, but how about you feel for once. You love her, say it!’ His heartbeat was bouncing around inside his chest._

_“Fucking hell, I do love her,” Frank mumbled aloud staring at her knives._

“Get me Stark,” Frank grumbled tossing a burner phone at Micro.

Security systems and a finicky A.I. prevented Micro from hacking into Tony’s phone longer than he anticipated, but when he succeeded he mumbled his way through an explanation and why he shouldn’t hang up. Micro knew of Stark and his ways, surely he had someone on the way to their hideout as they spoke. Frank grew tired of the bullshit snatching the phone.

“Stark, what are you gonna do about Y/n?” He was seething, jaw cracking as it clenched.

“And who do I have the pleasure of speaking with now?” That cocky tone only angering Frank further.

“Fuck off, you know who this is! Now, what’s the extraction plan?” Frank wasn’t prepared to hear the defeated sigh on the other end.

“There is no plan,” he grumbled. Angry voices in the background arguing. “Our hands are tied. We’ve been grounded and all eyes are watching. Fuck we can’t even sneeze without six different agencies popping out of the woodwork and breathing down our necks.”

“Are you fucking kidding?! Since when do you fuckers care what anyone thinks? She’s one of your own!” The feral outrage in his tone had even Micro inching away.

“Don’t you think we know that!? There’s nothing we can do, governmental red tape over numerous time zone. We step one toe out of line and that’s it. We’ll be so far underground we’ll be licking magma.” The flimsy plastic casing on the phone cracking under Frank’s rage.

“Tony who the hell are you talking to?” A voice in the background questioned.

“The solution to our problem.” Suddenly Tony’s voice changed, smug righteousness filled the speaker. “I never said anything about a plane that’ll be waiting at the abandoned airstrip outside of the city. Or that the coordinates would possibly be pre-programmed in, but if and by some unfortunate accident 'someone’ were to find that plane and oh I don’t know to steal it from me… I suppose there’s not much to be done about that huh?”

“No, I suppose not.” Frank grinned itching for the fight to come. “Y/n was right, you’re not half bad.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Tony huffed. “Getting there’s easy, but getting back into the states… I can’t guarantee they won’t be waiting to take you in.”

“I hear ya,” Frank grumbled. He’d worry about that when the time came. “Pilot?”

“Pfft,” Tony groaned. “Fully automated, what do you think I am, a peasant?”

**********

Matted hair stuck to her skull. Dried blood caked in trails down her cheek. A black eye, swollen shut. Layer upon layer of bruises covered her body. Wrists and ankles strapped her into a chair. Exhausted, her willpower was slowly vanishing. It’d been days, or was it weeks? She couldn’t remember, too many black spots on her memory. Too many knocks to the head to think clearly, but she knew she was in this on her own.

Barefoot in a cell, broken glasses scattered all over the floor. Y/n had tried to escape a few times having learned a few tricks from Nat. She’d almost made it out, made it to the barbed wired fence surrounding the prison, but a bullet to her thigh took her down. The next attempt she didn’t make it as far, just in sight of the door leading to the guards parking lot. That punishment was her least favorite. Her captors sliced into her Achilles tendon on both feet.

Y/n tried again though, barely making outside the door to her cell. They broke her arm without a thought. Ripped the ball joint right out of its socket and when she refused to scream, they shattered the Radius and Ulna bone in her forearm. Despite that torture, they strung her up from the ceiling and worked her torso over as if it was a weight bag. Searing pain engulfed her. Black dots and stars filled her vision as she blacked out.

Groggy, her head lulled from side to side. Hardly the strength to hold it up, Y/n let it fall. Her chin hitting her chest with an agonizing thud. The terrorists holding her captive didn’t fear her escaping anymore, leaving her cell door wide open. They thought they’d broken her, that she was close to talking. On the cusp of revealing all of S.H.I.E.L.D. and Avenger’s secrets.

In and out of consciousness she could hear mumbled chatter outside her door. They were readying a new round of pain. Her mind when it was there only thought of one thing. She’d only hoped she would have gotten to see him one last time. Hear him call her that stupid nickname one more time. The possibility of getting out alive grew slimmer each passing day.

The first explosion rocked the prison. The yelling and screaming of other captives filled the halls. Hostages held for ransom from dozens of countries around the globe. The building trembling and shaking, debris rained down on her head snapping her as wide awake as she could get. Panicked screams and gunfire rang out. She recognized that yell. That wrathful, 'you just fucked with the wrong guy’ bellowing scream he had when he fought.

“You have something of **MINE**!” His deep husky voice roared out. The menacing vengeance, the promise of death rooted in each word.

Sirens blaring throughout the prison. The thunderous sounds of boots on metal marching towards their end. The clink of guns chambering bullets. Another explosion shook the prison. Walls crumbling down around drowned out the cries of men dying. The guards that stood outside her cell on high alert, weapons were drawn. Those growling primal yells of his echoing throughout the prison.

A rush of adrenaline coursing through her, Y/n started to laugh. At first, the guards looked ready to haul ass in her cell and knock her out, but her laughter turned to a sneer. She spat out the blood that constantly pooled in her mouth. His voice was drawing closer. That sound that normally terrified men to their core left her smiling through her pain.

“You’re fucked now!!” She howled laughing through the pain, her throat coated in blood. Her body shook and jerked against the restraints. “Here comes the BOOM!” She cackled seconds before another explosion rumbled through the prison.

Bodies racing passed her door scattered in all directions, prisoners and captors all in a blur. The terrorist cell in chaos. Smoke and fire filled the prison. Death and destruction at each turn choking the life out of anything in his way. Closer and closer her way he unleashed his fury. Bodies dropping left and right. The guards dropped their weapons and ran in the opposite direction. Heavy gunfire rang out, they only made it a few feet before they crumbled to the ground.

“Y/N!” The strain in his voice as he yelled out.

“In here!” She croaked.

The adrenaline rushing through her would only last so long competing against the torment her body was suffering through. Afraid it was all nothing more than a hallucination. Y/n was afraid to blink. What if she did and she was still being tortured? That her mind was broken and all of this, all the noise, the relief of getting freed wasn’t real. That his voice wasn’t calling out for her.

Disguised as a prisoner. White jumpsuit covered in blood and gore. His signature skull spread over his chest in blood. Chest heaving, wild eyes scanning her cell. Distress and heartbreak streaked across his face in the quickest of flashes. Deep brown eyes primal and savage a few minutes before now softened in agony. The gasp that hitched in his throat the closer he got.

Working at breakneck speed, he freed her from the imprisonment of that chair. Chains clanged to the stone floor twinkling against the broken glass. Leather straps floated to the ground. Her clothes tattered and torn, ripped to shreds. Bruises and deep gashes peeked through the rips. Blood in all stages covered her. He didn’t think there wasn’t a spot on her body that hadn’t been touched, tortured.

Burn marks and puss-filled bubbles covered her arms. One arm dangled at a sickly revolting angle. Lash marks etched into her back. From the edge of her hip to the top of her shoulder. Gnarled angry red marks from where they tried to whip the information out of her. The longer he looked at her injuries, the more he found himself trying to blackout. To storm out of the cell on a bender killing every man in that prison.

“You look better in black,” she strained a laugh shaking him from the new rampage he was planning in his head.

“Whatever you say, Princess,” he couldn’t return the laugh but gave her a relieved smile.

No matter what he did, he knew it was going to cause her pain. Scooping her up in his arms in a bridal hold as quickly as he could, he turned and stomped out of prison. Her body shivering, trembling against his chest. Whimpered cries as she nuzzled her head in his neck. Hot wet tears dripping, soaking into his jumpsuit.

Hotwiring a Jeep, he raced out of the prison yard speeding miles away to the awaiting plane. It was already filled with the hostages clamoring to get out there. They didn’t care who he was as long as they were in the sky and away from that hell. Speeding down the makeshift runway, a flightpath to where he didn’t know. His only concern now was patching her up the best he could in the meantime.

Y/n was in and out of it during the flight. The fingers on her good hand laced through his. Her thumb weakly tracing over his knuckles. His name whispered off her lips. So much damage. For the first time since he could remember he found himself honestly scared. The atrocities she suffered and for what? A team that couldn’t get her because of Governmental bullshit.

She was out cold when the New York skyline came into view. Y/n never heard the conversation Frank had with the hostages. The story he told them to repeat to the authorities. The plea he sadly spoke that he was never there. That his presence was never on that plane or in that prison. They all witnessed the way he tended to her, the worry in his eyes. Words whispered in her ear, a faint sweep of his thumb over her mouth. The pained kissed he left on her forehead.

He shouldered a parachute, ordered them all to buckle in, and opened the door. A violent gust of wind blew through the plane. Glancing back one last time at her wishing for a different ending. His emotions betrayed him in front of a bunch of strangers. Devotion, anguish, regret. Frank rolled his eyes closed before he jumped out of the plane into the blackness of night.

Y/n hardly felt the plane landing, the jerking motion jolted her in her seat. Flashing lights and sirens illuminated from outside the windows. Agents stormed the plane, guns raised expecting the worst. A plane landing without a crew, nothing but political prisoners held for ransom. Agent Coulson’s eyes found her in an instant. Rushing her side, yelling for medical. So many voices filled his ears at the same time. Each one with the same story, of the woman that saved them all. 

**********

Weeks rolled by. Minutes dragged on like they were days, hours felt like years. Frank was going mad not knowing what happened, whether she was dead or alive. The exploits of her heroics plastered all over the news. Governments singing the praises of the Avenger that did what none else could. The story morphed and swirled into an undercover sting gone wrong, but none mentioned her status.

Not even Micro could drum up a lick of information. Frank was going stir crazy. He took his frustrations out on the drug lords and kingpins in the city. Soon none of them were willing to make so much as a peep to draw his attention their way. Thirty days, thirty long excruciating days ticked by.

On the thirty-first day, Micro’s computers glitched out. Screens rolled in a static haze. White noise filled the hideout. Lights throughout the building dimmed and flickered before the whole building went dark. Frank searching through the blackness for the nearest weapon thinking the worst. A single monitor lit up flashing the Iron Man emblem.

_**'Your Kung-Fu is not strong.’** _

__

The words floating across the screen on repeat.

“What the hell?” Micro furiously tapping away at the keyboard.

“You’re good, but not that good.” Tony’s voice echoed through the speakers.

“So how long do I got before you send the Feds after me?” Frank scowled, but part of him was expecting it. He’d pay that price for her.

“No idea what you’re talking about.” Tony chuckled. A news article danced across the screen. Frank stared at his mugshot. “But this guy… well he met with an unfortunate accident. Apparently, he burned up all crispy like in a building fire downtown. Shame those damned vigilantes go out like that. All case files have been closed.”

“Why you doin’ this Stark?” He had every right to question his motives. Nothing ever came without a price.

“You know damned well why.” The smugness, that cocky bravado.

“No actually I don’t,” Frank growled frustrated, tired of games.

“For her dipshit.” A photo of Y/n faded into clarity in the center of the monitor screen.

She was smiling sweetly looking off to the side of the picture. Bright eyes glinting in the sunlight, hair flying around her face. A flannel he recognized pulled tight around her as if she was cold. Coordinates blinked over the screen.

“You’ve got a second chance Frank don’t blow it. Go there, she’ll be waiting.” Suddenly Tony didn’t sound so cocky, but friendly.

“Where is she?” Curious worry in his voice he couldn’t hide laced with fear. "Is she okay?“

"It’s where she always goes when she wants a break from it all. Go or don’t, it’s your choice, but if you do go… you might not ever come back. Oh and Frank, grow the beard out again, she was always happier when you had that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The lights flashed on throughout the building. Computers whirred to life. Blinking numbers slowly faded away.

“Are you going to go?” Micro quizzed with a raised brow, but Frank was already stalking across the room.

“I gotta know if she’s alright.” Grabbing a duffel from beneath his bed, stuffing all he could think of inside. “If… if I don’t come back.” Frank hesitated, the words stuck.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be alright.” Micro pulled him into an uncomfortable hug. “Go get her.”

**********

The duffel slung over his back, rifle in his hands. He’d been tracking through the Canadian forest for days. His direction was on point towards the coords Tony had given him. Birds chirped and sang high up in the trees. Scampering critters darted around the brush. The canopy of branches provided some relief from the rays of the sun, but summer was still a bitch. Humid and sticky, sweat beaded down his back. Storm clouds billowed in slowly from the distance from behind him, but not soon enough for his liking.

Green leafy trees as far as his eyes could see. Mossy tree trunks and ferns brushed against his boots. He’d seen signs of animal trails and snares. The thought of Y/n trapping amused him. It seemed so primitively domestic and normal compared to the lives they led. A patch of wild blackberries came into view. He stopped long enough to take a long drink from his canteen. Shoveling a few handfuls of the berries in his mouth, not one to let a few calories go to waste.

The smell of the smoke caught his attention. Tufts of grey, swirls of smoke poked out from the treetops, he was getting closer. Frank hadn’t walked but 100 more yards from where he’d stopped when the treeline thinned out. An ancient log cabin nestled along the treeline. A wrap-around covered porch dotted with a few Adirondack chairs. Two four-wheelers parked off to the side partially covered with a tarp. Load upon load of wood stacked between two large trees, enough firewood to last a few winters.

His eyes scanned the area. Smiling when he noticed a hammock. The image of her laid out asleep swinging in a cool breeze had him chuckling softly. A fire pit already ablaze with a cast iron pot hung over the flames. He didn’t know what it was but his stomach was grumbling. This was a little piece of heaven. He found himself nodding and grinning understanding what Tony meant now. It was quiet, nothing but the sounds of the wildlife and the river rushing past. Setting his duffel bag and rifle down atop the porch steps, he glimpsed a figure in the river.

He knew who it was even with her back turned, but he couldn’t for the life of him understand how she was standing at all. Stepping closer he watched her from the water’s edge. By her injuries alone, she should still be in a hospital. Y/n stood thigh-deep in the river in a pair of dark green hip waiters. Sleeves of the blue flannel she’d stolen from him rolled up her arms.

A goofy looking floppy hat on her head adorned with fishing lures and a fly fishing rod in her hand. She held the fishing line loosely in one hand while the arm that had been broken pulled back and cast the line deep out into the river. Over and over she cast that line in the water.

“You know, for having been an 'elite’ soldier, you’re very noisy.” The snarky childish tone in her voice had him huffing out a laugh.

“How the fuck are you up and walking?” He knew Stark’s money meant he had a lot of toys, but she didn’t even look like she’d been held captive at all.

“Helen Cho and her miracle machine. I can hardly see the scars, but she promised my cast would be the same… liar.” Y/n puffed out a quieted laugh tossing her line in the water once more.

“You… you’re good? I mean …” he stammered in awe watching her reeling in a fish.

“I discovered a couple of days ago that I limp when it rains, but yeah. The worst of it was the gunshot in the thigh. That needed some extra attention, something about coasting too close to the edge with blood poisoning.” Y/n turned toward Frank heading out of the water. That adorable little side smile he hated that he loved so much.

“I-I… christ I thought I’d lost you that night.” The words tumbling out of his mouth before his brain could register. The open sentiment only made her smile widen. “Leaving the plane like that…” He regretted not staying and his face showed it. Those deep brown eyes trying not to show desperation.

Frank trailed off. His gaze sweeping over each spot. Lingering on the places over her body that was burned in his memory. The blood, the bruises, and the burns. His color paled, drained, lost in the morbid remembrance of how he found her. The mangled arm and how she whimpered with pain as he carried her out of that prison. All the gashes and deep gnarled lash marks that covered her back. He almost reached out to touch her shoulder but hesitated.

Y/n knew him too well, could see the gears grinding away inside his head. Read his thoughts as if they were flashing in code over his face. Nodding her head motioning for him to follow she sauntered toward the porch. Leaning her fishing gear against the railing and setting the fresh fish in a cooler filled with water. Frank watched her through curious eyes and a furrowed brow and she pulled off the waiters. Throwing them over the railing of the porch along with her hat.

She stood with her back facing Frank. Her fingers lazily unbuttoning the shirt. The soft flannel material sliding off her shoulder. He found himself leaning closer examining her skin. The heat of his breath even on the hot summer day sent a shiver through her. Franks’s fingers brush aside the thin strap of the tank top. Her skin was smooth and tanned as before, only the faintest of silvery lines that stretched across her back gave way to what had once been there.

Gently slipping off the flannel, he tossed it on the porch steps. Fingers crooked under the bottom hem of the tank tops fabric lifting it up. Y/n closed her eyes, her head fell to the side. Frank traced his fingers from the top of her shoulder, following the barely-there line down to her hip just above the waist of her jeans. His arm snaked around her waist, palm resting on her stomach pulling her into his chest. His lips ghosted across her shoulder. Light kisses no softer than the touch of a feather left on her neck.

“Getting tortured was what it took for you to admit what I’ve known for ages,” she teased in a low raspy breath.

“Ages huh?” A grumbled chuckle followed as he nipped her neck right below her ear.

Letting the cottony fabric fall from his fingers, he withdrew his touch. Y/n straightened, ready to turn her body and face Frank, but he beat her to it. She’d done enough. It was always Y/n coming to Frank. Y/n that put a hold on what she was doing to help him out. Y/n that sacrificed so much for him and he never saw it that way.

Three steps, three strides and he put himself in front of her. He went to her. To anyone watching it would have seemed silly, stupid even when all Y/n had to do was turn around, but he was proving a point; if only to himself. He wasn’t going to ask her to come to him anymore. Her eyes glinted in the fading light. He stepped into her, hands cradling her face. A thumb swept over her cheek while the other trailed over her mouth.

For too long he didn’t see what was there. Peering into her eyes he finally noticed that same gaze that’d always been there. That same smile, the hint of color splashed over her cheeks. The butterfly-like flutter in her eyes as she watched him. He’d been an idiot to not have seen it sooner.

It was like the world had slowed down around them. Both leaning in, bodies wavering, eyes darting widely. His lips brushed against hers softly. Warm breath fanning over skin and quick hesitant kisses. Y/n’s hand curled his shirt tight not wanting to let go. Thunder crackled, boisterous claps rumbling overhead. His fingers dancing across her face, slithering onto the back of her head tangled in her hair.

Hesitant soft kisses rolled deeper, longer. Starved of touch for too long he relished in every kiss she gave and gave she did. Placing kisses everywhere. His lips, his cheeks, nose, and neck, but always coming back to his mouth. The ticklish giggle in her throat each time his scruff rubbed against her. Frank’s free hand dropped to her waist, palm gliding over her thigh resting with a squeeze.

Y/n jumped without breaking the kiss, her legs wrapping around him. She wound her arms around his neck. Her fingers diving into his hair. Lightning flashed and the rain fell. A downpour of cool droplets spraying the ground around them. Raindrops pinging off rocks and the metal roof. The smell of wet dirt and foliage. The angry hiss of the fire drowning behind them, but still, they kissed.

Soaked to the bone, they clung to each other like a liferaft. Held on as if any second the other would be swept away. Feverish kisses and panting breath, but always coming back for more. Y/n didn’t speak as he walked slowly up the steps. Frank fumbled with the screendoor pulling it open with a little too much force. The loud smack as the wooden frame slammed against the wall.

Frank moved without hurry enjoying her touch. Hearing the low gasps and mumbled way she spoke his name. Her thighs squeezed tight. Her palms cradling his face. Y/n withdrew trying to catch her breath. Her head fell towards his, foreheads touching, noses rubbing gently against each other. Frank held her gaze, eyes softening. Enthralled. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this way.

He sat them both in a worn leather armchair, too small for the both of them, but he didn’t mind. Her legs straddling him, arms tangled around each other. Only the sounds of the rain echoing inside from the dance on the metal roof. Heartbeats pounding in tandem. He pulled her closer, held her tighter. Massive hands running up and down her back. She did what he wanted without asking.

Y/n rested her head atop his and just held him. So much time had been spent fighting, he’d forgotten the simple pleasure in being held that way. Her fingers trailed through his wet and unruly head of hair. Delicately scratching at the hairline on his neck. The tired sigh blew out his mouth as he relaxed. Bodies sinking into the chair unbothered by the wet clothes that clung to them. They sat huddled together lost in time listening to the rain pounding outside.

“I think you have something of mine,” he smirked kissing her neck.

“I do?” Y/n quipped playfully, her fingers scratching lazily at the back of his neck.

“Yeah,” his voice gruff, lips hovered over her chest. Pulling down the neck of her tank top he pressed a kiss over her heart. “Right here.”

“Then I better hold tight and protect it with my life,” she mused.

“It’s settled then,” kissing her deeply. “You protect that and I’ll protect you.”

“The bedroom’s over that way,” she nodded with a smirk, but Frank shook his head.

“I want this for a while longer.” Settling his head in her neck, arms clutching achingly around her back. Hugging her, engulfing her and listening to the rain and the beat of her heart. 


End file.
